Ribbons
by Lucilia Venom
Summary: Archie and Jughead have been friends for as long as they can remember. The prospect of something more hangs between them, and yet they are both too scared to ever reach for it. When Veronica offers to help Madame Voisin organise the trip to Paris, that's just because she's a good student, and not at all because Betty Cooper volunteered first.


"Literally no girls in our school are gay," Veronica complained, placing one dramatic hand on her forehead. "Do you know how many times I've had to get myself off lately? Far too many. Like, a ridiculous amount."

Archie snorted from his place on the sofa next to Jughead, who in turn did little but give her a look. "Not one for the dramatics now, are you Ronnie?"

Veronica glared. Jughead raised an eyebrow but remained silent, probably the best decision he'd made in weeks. Besides, what did he know about the harsh reality of single life? He and Archie might as well be married considering how they acted. God, Veronica was sick of being surrounded by people who were basically couples. Then again, she pretty much had two friends if you discounted the Vixens (she was pretty sure that most of them secretly hated her and she was in fact only on the team because she was fucking hot).

"Isn't Cheryl Blossom gay?" Archie mused, leaning on Jughead's shoulder and further enraging the disgustingly single Veronica.

"Well, yeah, but we all _**know**_ she fucking hates me," Veronica rolled her eyes as Archie nodded in agreement. "Anyway, I'm so sick of straight girls and just how cute some of them are."

Now that their interest was piqued, her two friends sat up straighter, elbows and knees knocking together in their efforts. "Anyone in particular?" Archie waggled his eyebrows and Jughead did his weird laugh that was actually more of a huff.

"A lady's allowed her secrets, even in this town."

Archie's reply was cut off by the deafening ringing of the bell that signalled the end of break and subsequently their happiness. Veronica heaved herself off the sofa with a dramatic sigh, waved a quick goodbye to the boys and left for her French class, wondering why on Earth she had chosen such a godawful subject.

She sat down at her desk, pulling what she needed out of her bag. Shit, a pencil fell out of her case and skittered across the floor. She sighed in frustration and was about to get up and retrieve it when the girl in front of her bent down and picked it up.

The blonde turned around with a smile. "This yours?"

Veronica froze. The girl's blonde hair had been pulled tight in a ponytail and her eyes, normally a piercing blue, glittered a soft grey in the light. Her stomach swooped. This was Betty Cooper, one of the straight girls that really made Veronica's school life a big gay struggle. She swallowed thickly, reminded herself to just breathe and smirked. "I'm pretty sure it is, thanks."

Betty handed her the pencil then turned around and faced the front. Veronica sunk down in her seat. She fucking hated straight girls.

"I'm Betty, by the way. Betty Cooper."

"Hi there Betty Cooper, I'm Veronica Lodge."

The other girl turned her attention to Madame Voison and okay, maybe Veronica didn't hate straight girls quite as much as she made out.

Archie had been friends with Jughead for as long as he could remember. Truth be told, he couldn't really remember a time when they _**weren't**_ friends. It had always been him and Jughead against the rest of the world, and he knew it would be for the rest of time. His life with Jughead had almost been set in stone and he didn't want it any other way. Was that sappy of him to think? He guessed so. Fuck, he sounded like the girl from a goddamn romcom or chickflick or whatever it is they're called.

The redhead had known for a couple of years now that there was something strange about his friendship with Jughead. He knew it extended beyond the bounds of most friendships; most guys didn't hold hands when they were at the drive-in, shrouded in darkness and yet feeling so light. Then again, most guys didn't share drunken kisses at night that they never seemed to quite fully recall in the morning, forever waking up and wondering if it was indeed a dream. Neither of them spoke of it, of the fumbled kisses snatched from the shadows, but each knew that they had always been something more, always would be. The prospect of exactly what that could be hung between them, a satin ribbon that served as a soft promise.

Archie rolled over, unsure of why Jughead had recently become the subject of his late musings when all he wanted to do was sleep. He had football practise the next day and yet here he was, wide awake and consumed with thoughts of his best friend.

He burrowed further down into his nest of covers and, now pleasantly warm and comfortable, slowly succumbed to sleep.


End file.
